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User blog:Squibstress/A Slant-Told Tale - Chapter 9
Title: A Slant-Told Tale Author: Squibstress Rating: MA Genre: Drama, romance Warning/s: Explicit sexual content; violence; abuse; alcoholism Published: 23/05/2017 Disclaimer: All characters, settings and other elements from the Harry Potter franchise belong to J. K. Rowling. Chapter Nine 2 May 1946 “I’ll kill the man!” Magnus roared. “Money or no, I’ll kill him!” “Magnus, no!” cried Glenna. “Think of the scandal …” “Hang the scandal, the man’s tried to abuse my daughter—his own son’s wife! Where was that worthless husband of yours?” he asked Minerva. “I don’t know … out …” Minerva stammered. “At the racetrack, I warrant,” Magnus said. “Good-for-nothing whelp. I’m sorry I saddled you with him, Minerva.” “It’s all right Father. I agreed to it.” “No, it isn’t all right. Not at all. I thought it’d be best for you … that you’d be taken care of. Instead, I find that young scoundrel leaves you to the mercy of that sick bastard of a father. I should have known,” he muttered, running his fingers agitatedly through his wavy hair. Minerva hadn’t expected her father to react so dramatically to her tale. She had hoped only that he would shelter her and Malcolm until she could figure out what to do next. “Father, please. No heroics. I just want a bit of time to think. May we stay here for a few days?” “Of course, Minerva,” said Glenna. “Think about what? You canna go back to that house. I won’t let you,” Magnus said. “I know, Father. But if I abandon Gerald, you’ll likely have to return the money you got at our marriage. And the lease.” And I’ll have to repay the money for my apprenticeship. Goddamn Kenneth Macnair! She was close—only four months to finishing and attaining her mastery. If she had to abandon her studies to go out to work now, she might never have another chance to sit the exam. Everything would have been in vain. “Do you want to leave Gerald, Minerva?” asked Magnus. It took her a moment to answer. “No, Father. This wasn’t Gerald’s fault. His father is unstable, but I’m sure Gerald never thought he’d hurt me.” That’s true enough. It probably never occurred to him. “All right, Minerva. You and Malcolm can stay here. I’ll go talk to the Macnairs and try to sort this out.” “No, please don’t. I’ll speak with Gerald, I can—” said Minerva. Her father, though he meant well, would likely make things worse with his temper. But he cut her off swiftly. “No arguments. This needs to be addressed, and by the gods, it will be.” He stormed out of the room, leaving Minerva and her mother in the uncomfortable wake of his fury. The two witches exchanged looks of anxious understanding. “Thank you for letting me stay,” said Minerva. “Of course. It will be a treat for us to have you and Malcolm with us,” said Glenna. “I know Malcolm will enjoy it. You must promise not to spoil him too much,” Minerva said with a small smile. “And when have I ever spoilt the child?” Glenna asked. “Och, I suppose you’re right. But that’s what a grandmother is for.” After a few moments, she added, “I never spoilt you.” “No, and I’m glad of it,” answered Minerva. “I try not to spoil Malcolm, but I don’t suppose it will hurt him to have his grandmother fuss over him for a few days.” “He’s a lamb,” said Glenna, and mother and daughter looked at one another with deep affection for a few moments before Glenna said, “Minerva?” “Yes, Mother?” There was another pause before Glenna spoke again. “I’ve long wanted to ask …” Then she shook her head. “ No. I’ve no right.” Minerva said nothing, but kissed her mother’s cheek and went to find her son. ~oOo~ “What do you mean, ‘gone’?” Gerald asked. “Mistress Minerva took Master Malcolm and went away,” answered the trembling house-elf. “Where?” “I’s not knowing, Master Gerald.” Gerald frowned. It was unlike Minerva to leave the manse without leaving word with Maisie as to where she was going and when she would return. And why had she taken Malcolm? An outing? Wherever she had gone, Gerald hoped it wasn’t going to cost too much money. He was perpetually short on ready funds these days. He could kill Taran Goyle for persuading him to sink all his money into the “Swiss Venture”, as they called it. Now it was all gone, and likely forever. But Goyle had talked about it as if it were a sure thing, that Grindelwald would eventually triumph, and the rounding up of Mudbloods would commence. The “facility” in Switzerland would probably never be built now, nor the network of factories and brothels he and Goyle had believed would make them rich. Thankfully, Minerva wasn’t a spendthrift. Not like Goyle’s wife, always dropping a Galleon here and there in the finer shops of Diagon Alley. But where was she? Gerald turned and strode towards his father’s study. At his father’s barked, “Enter!” Gerald stepped through the door, a tiny thorn of trepidation pricking at his belly, as it always did in his father’s presence. “Pardon me, Father, but I’m wondering if you might know where Minerva has got to? We were supposed to go to the Goyles’ for tea this afternoon, but she seems to have gone out.” “It isn’t my fault if you can’t keep track of your wife,” said Kenneth. “No, sir,” replied Gerald. “It’s just that it’s unusual for her to forget an engagement.” Kenneth just grunted, and Gerald suddenly thought to wonder at the compress his father was holding against the side of his nose, which appeared bruised. But he knew better than to ask about it. “Sorry to disturb you, Father,” he said, receiving no reply and backing out of the room. An hour later, a brooding Gerald was relieved to hear the chimes ring, then he remembered that Minerva would have no reason to ring the bell. He wandered from the library toward the entry hall and was surprised to hear raised voices. “You just go tell your master that Magnus McGonagall would speak with him, and I’m not leaving until I do,” said one of the voices. Minerva’s father? What is he doing here? A sense of foreboding washed over Gerald suddenly, and he had the urge to turn and flee the house from the storm he knew was coming. Something had happened, he was sure of it, and it involved Minerva. And his father. The sense of dread grew as he fought the urge to leave. If something has happened with Minerva, I should be there, he told himself. She’s my wife. He forced himself to move forward—feeling as if he were walking through thick mud—until he reached the entry hall. “Mr McGonagall,” he said, pleased that his voice did not shake. McGonagall wheeled around and fixed a beady eye on Gerald. “And where were you?” he demanded. “Sir … I … I’m sorry, I don’t …” he stammered. “No, I know you don’t,” McGonagall said. Gerald swallowed and ignored the tone. “Please, sir, can you tell me where Minerva is?” “Aye. She’s at my house, and there she stays until we’ve got a few things straight. Where is your father?” he demanded. “Macnair!” he roared, his voice echoing through the house. As frightened as Gerald was of this angry man, he was even more terrified about what would happen when his father appeared. Whatever was the matter, Kenneth would find a way to put him in the wrong, of that he was certain. A minute later, Kenneth appeared with a very agitated house-elf in his wake. “Just what do you think you’re about, McGonagall, barging into my house, roaring like a wounded dragon?” “You know exactly why I’m here; do you need me to spell it out in front of your son here?” Kenneth glared at him for a moment, then said, “Come into my study. No need to give the elves an earful.” Gerald noticed that the elf moved a few paces away from his master at that. Kenneth turned and stalked away, followed by McGonagall. Gerald summoned what courage he could find and trailed after the two men. When they reached the study, Kenneth said, “Get out, boy. This doesn’t concern you.” Gerald almost didn’t believe he was hearing his own voice as he said, “If it’s to do with my wife, I’m staying.” McGonagall said, “The boy’s right, Macnair. He stays.” Kenneth peered at the man for a moment, then threw up his hands in a show of exasperation. “Fine.” McGonagall asked, “Do you want to tell him what happened, or shall I?” “I don’t know what you mean,” said Kenneth. “Fine. I’ll tell it, then,” said McGonagall, turning to Gerald. “Your father tried to violate my daughter. Your wife.” Gerald felt the blood leave his face. “That’s what she told you, then?” said Kenneth. “Aye. And she showed me the bruises on her arms to prove it.” “She must have got those when I tried to push her away.” “And the ones on her neck? What of those, Macnair?” “I don’t know,” Kenneth said. “All I can tell you is that she propositioned me, and when I refused her advances, she hexed me. Broke my nose,” he said, hands moving, perhaps unconsciously, to the site of his wound. “What are you saying, Father?” Gerald asked, his horror nearly obliterating his hearing. Could it be true? “That you aren’t doing your duty, boy! If you spent as much time mounting your wife as you do your horses, she’d never have come to me.” “Enough!” shouted McGonagall. “You’ll not speak of my daughter that way in my presence, if you know what’s good for you. I know as well as you do that it didn’t happen as you say. You got Minerva alone, and you tried to force yourself on her, but she got the better of you, didn’t she?” he said with an ugly smile. “It’s her word against mine,” said Kenneth mildly, and Gerald realised with sudden clarity that every word McGonagall had spoken was true. Nausea gripped him, and he had to take several deep breaths to steady himself. “Please, Mr McGonagall,” Gerald said when he found his tongue, “Is Minerva all right? Can I see her?” “She’s all right. You’ll see her when she’s ready to see you, and not before.” “So you’re backing out of the marriage contract, McGonagall? Can you afford that?” Kenneth asked. After a few moments, McGonagall answered, “Minerva does not want to end the marriage. She says Gerald’s not responsible for your twisted behaviour.” She loves me, then, Gerald thought with relief. The notion replenished his nearly depleted reserves of courage, and he said, “Will she come back here?” “No. But I’ll ask her if you can come to visit her and Malcolm while you make different living arrangements.” “You can’t keep my grandson from me, McGonagall,” said Kenneth. “You’ll be allowed to visit the boy once Gerald and Minerva have their own home.” When Kenneth opened his mouth as if to object, McGonagall moved in close to him. He was a large man, and Gerald noted with satisfaction that his father seemed small and inconsequential next to him. McGonagall said, “And listen to me well, Macnair. If I hear a word in future—even the smallest whisper—that you’ve cocked a wrong eye at Minerva, I’ll see you dead, for all your money and connections. I’ve connections, too, and some o’ them aren’t averse to a little behind-the-scenes sport to avenge a lady’s honour, if you take my meaning. Blood and family mean a great deal in these parts. As you well know, Macnair.” He turned on Gerald. “And you … isn’t it about time you stood on your own instead of sucking at your daddie’s teat all the while? Good gods, man, why haven’t you provided Minerva with her own home before this instead of letting her rot here with your bent excuse for a father? It can’t be the money—you got enough of that after the wedding. Do it now, man. Get your own home. I’ll keep Minerva and the boy with me until I’ve seen you’ve done it. And I’ll be sending one of our family house-elves along when she comes to you—just to keep an eye on you.” Gerald swallowed hard. How would he afford a home now that most of his settlement had gone up in smoke? He couldn’t—he wouldn’t—ask his father. He hated the man with every fibre of his being, and had for years, he realised suddenly. This business with Minerva just sealed it. He tried to … he would have … For the first time, Gerald was thankful for his wife’s prowess with a wand. “No need to see me out, Macnair,” Magnus threw over his shoulder as he turned and strode out of the room. Gerald followed him, and when they got to the door, he asked, “Mr McGonagall, is Minerva really all right?” “Aye.” “Please, sir, will you tell her … tell her I love her. Malcolm, too. And that I’m anxious to see her … when she’s ready.” Minerva’s father gave a single nod and left. What am I going to do? Gerald turned and saw his father standing in the doorway from his study. The two men stared at one another for a few moments; then, for the first time Gerald could remember, Kenneth looked away first. Gerald held his gaze on his father for a minute, then turned and went upstairs to think. ← Back to Chapter 8 On to Chapter 10→ Chapters of Slant-Told Tale, A